Ashes
by Sarah Serena Rose
Summary: It burned when they left the parking lot. He just didn't know what hurt worse, his arm or his heart. Coda to 9.12, Sharp Teeth.


Title: Ashes  
Characters: Dean, Sam  
Summary: It burned when they left the parking lot. He just doesn't know which is worse, his arm or his heart.  
Rating: T (language)  
Notes: Just a short angsty, h/c fic following the last episode! Spoilers for 9x12, "Sharp Teeth."

* * *

It started off as a pinprick, an itch on the surface of his skin beneath the layers of clothes. He did his best to ignore it, tensing his hands on the steering wheel and humming along to the radio, anything not to scratch his forearm for the sake of saving face. Sam would definitely ream him out for that; he wasn't Sam's (his brother's) favourite person at the moment.

Which was a total fucking understatement, but at least he hadn't lied about the mark, not technically anyway, he just didn't give…full details.

Sam's words were more of an indication of his distrust. _If you want to be brothers…_

The words replayed like a loop in his head. Clashing around with all the other things that had gone wrong recently. His chest tightened, turning into a physical ache almost more unpleasant than the tingle on his arm. Kneading a fist under his ribcage, Dean took a deep breath and willed the feeling to pass.

It was self-inflicted really, as many times as they've lied to each other, betrayed one another for the sake of protecting the other, broken the trust between them countless times…you'd think they'd finally learn something from it. But it never worked out right; he was just trying to save his brother, it would go against every fibre of his being _not _to.

He couldn't even say he was sorry for breaking their trust, because deep inside he knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Dean sighed, wanting nothing more than to glance over at Sam and have the kid smile right back at him. Everything was so wrong, so utterly fucked and he didn't know if it was repairable this time.

When Sam finally did look over, Dean dropped his hand from his chest, not wanting to bother him with another burden he shouldn't have to worry about.

He would deal.

* * *

When they eventually stopped at a motel to stay at for the night, truthfully he could use the rest; Sam went in to book the room.

Dean let out an audible groan when Sam was out of earshot. Goddammit did that mark burn like a bitch. Glancing towards the office, he made sure Sam wouldn't be right back and quickly rolled up his sleeve, revealing the off coloured skin. Well, fuck. It was certainly inflamed, red and blistered as a sunburn. Reminded him of the handprint Cas had left as a memento on his shoulder. The only problem was he was about ninety-nine percent sure regular burn cream wasn't going to solve his dilemma.

"Son'uva bitch."

Looks like he should have listened to the terms and conditions manual of acquiring the mark of goddamn Cain. As long as Crowley didn't back out of their deal to get the first blade to kill Abbadon, he would be fine. Hopefully Cain would have the decency to fry it off his arm before he ganked him with his own blade.

Dean glanced up and promptly pulled his sleeve down as Sam approached from the entrance to the small office. His tense stature did nothing to ease the ache in his chest.

Sam got in tersely, spouting off the words, "Room 167," as if they physically hurt him to say. He hadn't booked them into separate rooms, Dean was thankful for that at least.

* * *

The room itself was a carbon copy of the hundreds they've stayed in before, slightly dingy and tackily decorated. When they entered, he chose the bed closest to the door, leaving the one next to the heater for Sam, knowing he had always run cooler than his hothead of a… (brother). His body tensed, the word felt superficial now, like his tongue shouldn't even wrap around the syllables. He was unworthy of being Sam's brother, had failed him too many times to be forgiven.

He tried not to sigh, make a sound and say anything to rid the atmosphere of silence. If there was one thing Dean hated, it was silence. There was always something to fill it: words, laughter, simple idiosyncrasies that suddenly felt taken advantage of. Placing his bag at the end of the bed, he wearily flicked his eyes over at Sam, watched as he placed his own bag on the floor and started to fiddle with the dial on the heater.

Dean couldn't help but smirk at how predictable Sam (his brother) was, but the full impact of his earlier thoughts hit like a freight train and had him stumbling towards the bathroom.

Oh god, Sammy…_Most people assume I burn hot, it's actually quite the opposite…_

Crashing to the floor, Dean dry heaved into the porcelain bowl. He hadn't eaten when they stopped at the gas station hours before. His stomach had been rolling then, wracked with guilt and certainly wasn't about to stop now.

Sam had been pissed; scratch that-still was pissed, livid about being possessed by Gadreel. He had reason, sure, but now it made sense, _truly _made sense why he was pissed off. It was an all too similar situation and the thought sent him into another round of heaving. His brother couldn't afford to lose control, not after everything, not after Lucifer. _God_, how could he forget? Watching Sam (his brother) being worn by that bastard, unable to do a thing. That lack of control, that's what he feared. And how he had willingly let Sam be possessed, tricked him into being possessed. That was the ultimate betrayal in Sam's eyes.

_Fuck. _

"Whoa, whoa, calm down man. It's alright, you're okay."

He was brought back into reality by Sam's (his brother) words, by the hand pressed at the base of his neck. His eyes watered from the heaving and Dean tried to take a deep breath and calm his stomach muscles, but the revelation of how Sam saw him, the level of deception was astonishing.

Sam's words did nothing but increase his distress, the concern laced underneath the statement. His whole body felt like it was on fire and frostbitten at the same time. The goddamn mark was blazing on his skin, still covered by the cotton of his shirt.

Tremors still shaking his frame, he barely choked out, "I…I fucked up Sammy."

Dean could feel Sam crouch down beside him, couldn't look up and see the undeniable worry and unease plastered in the kids eyes. He laid his head across an arm that was slung over the top of the bowl, unable to look up at Sam. (his brother)

"Dean?" he prompted, sliding the hand down to rest upon his shoulder instead.

Sucking in a breath, he mumbled, "M'm sorry Sam. Sorry, sorry, sorry, my god am I sorry. I know alright? I know why you're pissed and I can accept that. I am sorry that I let you be possessed by some asshole, but not that I didn't let you die. You can't ask me to say sorry to that, watching you on your deathbed and wondering if that was going to be it. The last time I saw my little- you alive. I will never be okay with that, it is against every fibre in my body _not_ to try and save you. _Goddammit, _I just-I'm sorry, for lying, for everything, for all the shit I put you through Sam-"

"Dean, whoa, calm down."

Sam heard the anguish and misery enveloped in Dean's confession, the truthful remorse in his words. It was unbearable to witness the _pain_ seeping through. Sitting down fully on the tiled floor, but not without keeping a physical grip on Dean, Sam chose his next words carefully. Knowing this would be a once in a lifetime thing.

He cleared his throat anxiously, "Man, I know you're sorry. I do. But I can't help but still feel resentment for what you did. You're not the only one who's fucked up though, truthfully I'd say I'm higher on the list than you are, but you forgave me for everything. Ruby, the demon blood, my actions when I was soulless and I know you'll always be angry about that. Just like I'll always feel bitter about being possessed by Gadreel.

"The only thing I have a problem with, is you continuously using family as excuse for your actions. And yes, that is severely hypocritical of me to say concerning what I've done in the past, I'll admit it. But it's toxic. You are my brother, although that can't be the only thing that keeps us together, what keeps us going. We get hurt- hell we lie and try to sacrifice each other because of it. We can't keep doing that Dean, I…I can't stand seeing you in pain as much as you hate seeing me in pain."

Dean stilled for a second contemplating, his next words uttered with care.

"Alright, okay," he took a breath, focusing on the truth Sam had spouted in his speech. "I'll try and stop being so codependent. I'll _try._ Two things though," Dean mumbled, lifting his head to rest his chin against an arm. "Starting from now on, we are equal. Not saying the slate is clean, probably never will be, but no more secrets."

Sam's lips quirked up, felt total relief wash over-

"-Which is why I still don't deserve to be called your brother. Not anymore. I have to earn that."

Sam startled at the interruption, the finality in the words. "Dean, what-

"-No! You're right…_we_ can't keep doing this. Spinning in circles with no exit. It's a familiar road and one we fucking need to get off," he cried out harshly, throat raw, "I'm serious Sammy-Sam."

At Dean's correction, his body tensed and he clutched onto his brothers arm, realised the extent his words in that parking lot had on Dean, which needed _his_ automatic _correction_ right _fucking_ now.

"Hey, hey. Look at me. Dean, _look at me." _

There was complete stillness in the washroom, before Dean acquiesced and carefully turned his head. Sam was staring at him with a pointed gaze, but his tone was soft.

"I didn't say that we weren't brother's man, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't want us hurting one another anymore. I was a bitch to even mention it and I'm sorry that it caused you that much anguish you had to…uhh," he motioned towards the toilet with his free hand.

Dean shook his head, though he was still in a state of disbelief. "That wasn't part of it, at least not fully."

Sam raised an eyebrow, "What was it then? You couldn't have gotten food poisoning…"

"It was Lucifer."

The kid instantly froze; face a blank sheet of shock. He tilted his out a bit and uttered, "What?" in such a small voice Dean could have sworn he regressed ten years.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he elaborated. "Well, I was just thinking about the heater beside your bed-

"-What does that have to do with anything?" Sam asked frantically.

"If you let me finish," he said slowly before returning to his train of thought.

"The heater, yeah. Since you're usually colder than I am, I let you have the one closest to it, but it reminded me of what Lucifer said years ago, that he 'runs the opposite of what most people assume.' Then you were possessed by our friendly Morningstar, which was way too similar to me letting you be controlled by Gadreel. It was the same thing, the lack of control and ability to do what you choose. The _betrayal_, you must have felt, after learning about what I did. After everything we've been through, everything that you endured…

"That is why I don't deserve to call myself your brother."

Sam broke at his brother's confession, shoulders slumping and eyes starting to get misty. He had to convince Dean that wasn't true, wouldn't ever be _fucking_ true, not if he had anything to do with it. He was on his feet within a second, jumping up and racing out of the washroom.

Dean watched the emotions flick over Sam's face before he leapt up, determination set in his jawline. Almost gave him whiplash as he tried to track the movements outside the doorframe.

"Sam, what?" he asked, confused.

A hand was waved in his general direction as Sam dug through his duffle. "One minute!"

He rolled his eyes, but with a small smile, wondering what was going through the kid's brain. Taking a moment to peek at the new tattoo he had acquired, Dean noticed, and felt relief as the burning sensation started to abate. _Thank God._ Even the skin around seemed to be less inflamed than before, sighing, he pulled his sleeve back down before Sam came back.

Having found what he was searching for, Sam slowly slunk into the doorway, hands behind his back and an apprehensive look on his face.

"Well?" Dean inquired, now curious. Wondering how the kid, again, seemed to turn into that innocent twenty-two year old.

Sam gazed around the room, at anything but his brother's face. He felt like he was going to be the sick one... hoped his plan worked.

He coughed, "Just don't freak out, alright? I mean, it's been a while and I don't know how you'll react and-"

"Sammy. I'm going to turn into an old man if you don't hurry it up. S'like watching paint dry. Or grass grow."

At the teasing words the younger man steeled himself, muttered, "Alright, alright," closed his eyes and revealed his arm from around his back. He swallowed anxiously.

Dean watched as Sam slowly pulled his arms out from behind him and his breath stopped instantly. He froze, almost in the same manner Sam had at the mention of Lucifer. His mouth hung open, there were no words for how jarring…

…Between Sam's fingers hung a black cord, attached to was a small, golden amulet. The Amulet.

"Holy fuck." Those were the only words able to be passed through his lips and he pushed himself into a standing position, wondering if this was all a mirage and the past half hour didn't actually happen.

"Christ, Sammy," he breathed, could feel his throat start to swell and eyes burn.

Sam opened his eyes, was now face to face with his brother. Watching as Dean starred at the amulet, wiping a hand over his mouth. Rolling on the balls of his feet in anticipation, he bit a lip.

"Do you want-"

He was interrupted when Dean launched himself forward, nearly knocking him over with the sheer force.

"Jesus Christ, Dean," Sam blurted trying to stabilize the both of them, all while wrapping his arms around his brother. Dean released moments later with a pat on the back, stepping backwards to look at Sam.

"You…you kept it this whole time?"

Sam nodded, seeing the emotions contort over the older man's features. Dean nodded in return, willing himself not to freak the fuck out, 'cause holy shit that was the amulet he threw out years ago, the one he never should have let out of his grip, the one that left a physical ache whenever he would reach for it and there would only be empty space.

"I was saving it for a brother of mine. Thought he might want it back someday."

Dean snapped his gaze to his brothers, the smile and light radiating from his face saying more than words ever could.

"Thank you," he finally breathed, reaching out to touch the one constant he would never be without again. When Sam released it into his palm and it was solid, sturdy, he felt like he was going to fall to his knees. Clutching the amulet tight in his fist, he felt the familiar weight in his palm then released, raising his arms to place it around his neck. He choked out another watery laugh, seeing the pleased smile Sam was sporting.

"No problem. It's where it belongs."

_I'm where I belong. With you, Dean._

The unspoken words resonated between the two of them, easing any underlining doubt. No matter what happened, the burned remains of their brotherhood would continue to smoulder, wouldn't be doused with whatever they should come across.


End file.
